Her Mission
by Akatsuki Seal
Summary: They created Astaroth to kill the wielder of Soul Edge and bring it home. When he revolted, they created the Iron Maiden to kill Astaroth and bring him home. For one with no soul, what is it like to be the perfect soldier?


**To my favourite character in the Soul series. (And to anyone who writes about anyone in the Soul series)**

She stared down at the mangled corpse of her predecessor, the traitor Astaroth, her face set in a permanent apathetic porcelain image; an image that was not her own. Her glassy, golden eyes stared emotionlessly at the slowly growing puddle of dark crimson blood that leaked out of the fatal wound. She had no emotions. No needs, no wants and no worries. Mechanical in both mind and body. Unlike her counterpart.

The fight between them was epic, each breaking piece by piece off of each other's armour, clashing with the exact same moves and the exact same timing. It was almost equivalent to the opposing forces of Soul Edge and Soul Calibur; each fighting, but neither winning.

Until now.

_She felt something, a push or a nudge into consciousness. An image of a dark room with bright lamps invaded her sight as she opened her eyes for the first time. She made no noise as a man dressed in white flashed a lamp into each of her eyes, one at a time, to test her ability to see. _

_Upon noting her perfect vision, the force that woke her disappeared and she promptly fell into sweet oblivion once more. _

Fygul Cestemus had sent her to destroy the traitor, to tear him limb from limb. Astaroth, the destructive golem whom Kunpaetku had once taken pride in creating, now shamed as he lay in his own filthy life-juice. A traitor in life and death it seems. And she just stared blankly at the puddle as it grew.

While their moves were the same, their battle stances identical and their strength immeasurable, she still had the upper hand. Why?

Because she was not a traitor. She still had the faith of Ares within her cold, mechanical heart. The God of War believed in her, and she would make the cult proud. She would prove that once and for all, she is the most powerful being that Fygul Cestemus had ever created!

_When she opened her eyes once more, she was somewhere else. There were no dark walls, no lamps and no men in white. Instead, she lay amongst a bed of flowers. Carelessly disregarding them, she sat up to examine her surroundings. An archaic white temple surrounded her resting place. Beside her lay a weapon; an axe on one end shaped like an Iron Maiden torture device, and an impossibly sharp lance on the other. Engraved on the shaft was Krnielk, the weapon's name, she supposed. Grasping Krnielk, she stood and was confronted by a man in a black and gold robe, who walked to her from an archway across the room. Taller than she, he looked down at her and evenly asked; _

_"Do you know your purpose?"_

Seizing the leg of the traitor, she began to drag the corpse across the plains, back to where she came from. Back to where they both came from. Blood stained the ground every slow and heavy step, the dead war golem's spiked and serrated flesh leaving scars in the cement and earth, while her spiked skirt dragged and created sparks.

For days she hefted this baggage, not stopping for a moment; not to eat, not to sleep, not to blink. Her soulless mechanical body did not require such luxuries. Her soulless mechanical body just did what it was ordered to do.

_"My purpose?" She asked. The man smiled and held up an image of a hellish looking being with dark, sectioned skin. Between each section of grey stone-like skin was a glowing red. Thick spines on his back stood higher than his head, which has its own massive maw that this creature called a mouth. A helmet covered his head and his ears. Thick body armour covered only his shoulders, ankles, wrists and waist; he was barefoot like a savage. In his large paws was a massive battleaxe, styled the same as his 'epidermis'. The robed man spoke again._

_"Astaroth, the traitor. Your purpose is to find and kill him." She nodded and he handed her the image. He stopped and began to speak more, but she spoke, which caused him to pause._

_"What am I?"_

Getting the body over the mountains was the hard part. She could not drag the heavy corpse by herself. Instead, she enlisted the help of an astral being who, like herself, was not born naturally. Angol Fear, she said her name was, aided her in carrying the body just over the rocks. With the strength of the two women, they hefted the body over the rocky terrain and onto another set of plains. When the road was clear, she bid her thanks to Angol Fear and they parted ways, the astral being taking to the skies and not to return for another thousand years. The body was starting to decompose, so she picked up the pace and walked faster.

_She stood in front of a mirror-lined wall of the temple she woke in. The creature that stared back surprised her. A beautiful, feminine porcelain face, smooth pale skin and golden eyes stared back. Around it and reaching down past her lower back was long, haphazardly braided silver hair, curled into little coils on her cheeks._

_A bonnet kept the platinum hair down upon her head with a bright red ribbon, while a wire went over the bonnet and a thick, metal attachment was joined to the back of her head. Her arms were covered in white metal gauntlets and pauldrons and her chassis was a fair white and a charcoal black. To her abdomen was a black sheet of metal curled around her with a golden heart shaped hole. Through the heart she could see her inner workings, her gears, her insides. _

_Attached to her abdomen was a spiked metal hoop-like skirt. Her dress, a bolted together titanium, black on the outside - red on the inside, shield for her thigh joints. Her under-skirt, a short, ruffled and again, pure shade of white. Segmented, rose stitched stockings covered her obviously android legs. _

_"Do you now see what you are?"_

The final stretch now, she recognized this stretch of land. It was the desert and the temple was nearby, just a few more miles. She would be back soon, very soon if she kept the pace up.

The body of Astaroth, however, was not so patient. Already, decay and rot had sunken into to the sections of skin, turning them an unearthly brown. If she had a soul, she would have covered her nose and vomited. But she did not. She continued, following the trenches and the ruins of old civilization in the wasteland.

_"You are a mechanical golem, my dear. Soulless, emotionless and stronger than anything imaginable. You are Fygul Cestemus' best creation. You are the Iron Maiden." She loosened her grip on Krnielk and let the lance end stab deep into the marble below her feet. The heavy weapon stood erect next to its mistress' side._

_"Yes. I understand." Her sweet voice betrayed the acts she was to commit. She placed a hand over the heart on her abdomen._

_"My purpose is to destroy Astaroth the traitor and bring him here." _

Marching through the corridors of the cult's temple, her heavy and reverberating footsteps caused dust and plaster to fall from the ceiling. Astaroth had long since stopped bleeding, so the pristine floors remained just that; pristine. Upon reaching her creator's chamber, she tapped the thick oak with Krnielk, gouging out the slightest grooves in the ancient wood. As they opened, she presented the body to those on the other side.

"You have succeeded in your task?"

She nodded.

_"Precisely, my dear." He placed a hand upon her face, as if to caress it, but he knew she could not feel it. A clock struck and its chimes echoed through the empty halls._

_"You must go. Time is precious." After she pulled her weapon from the ground, he guided her towards the exit._

_"Astaroth grows stronger by day. But even a monster such as he requires sustenance. Eliminate the source, and eliminate him." She stared, blank golden eyes, piercing him to his soul._

_"Is that who I am too? A monster?"_

_"No. That is not who you are."_

_"Then please, who am I?"_

Astaroth was dead, her purpose complete. She returned to the room in which she woke amongst the bed of flowers. Carefully, she eased herself down, placing Krnielk by her side. She lay on her back, hands crossed over where, if she were human, her heart would be. Her emotionless eyes slid shut and sleep once more took her. The darkness of oblivion would be suitable until her next orders were given.

_"You are Ashlotte Maedel, the creation of Fygul Cestemus. You are the angel of death. You are an executioner. You are perfect."_

**Hope you liked it! : )**


End file.
